The Phony Menace


We have a land-line telephone because shut up is why, all right? I’m sorry, that sounds a little defensive. It’s just that we do have a land-line telephone. And that gets us a lot of guff. You know how much guff you should be getting, like, on a daily basis? We get something like 15 percent more guff than we should because of this phone. This doesn’t sound like much, and maybe it isn’t. But we get it consistently, and it’s just too much. And ours is a small family, even with the rabbit. We don’t use the stuff up fast enough. We’ve run out of cabinet space and the breakfast nook is a fright with all this guff. We have run out of places to put the guff excess to requirements. Anyway, I’m sorry to lash out like this but at least it gets a little bit of guff out of our way.

Well. If you will let us have our land-line phone I can get on with this story. The problem is that our land-line phone stopped working and shut up we can too tell, all right? Look, we use it all the time to get messages from coworkers who don’t understand why they can’t text that number. Or scammers promising they’re from Windows and here to help. Oh, the fun I had that one time I pretended I thought the guy was talking about the things that let us look outside and disapprove of the neighbors. I kept thanking him for his thoughtfulness but telling him they seemed to be just fine, if a little dirty. He needed about twenty minutes before catching on, at which point he cursed me out and hung up before I could say, hey, you called me. A couple months later he called back, recognized my voice, and hung up.

Anyway, the phone broke, not calling out or in or doing anything but giving us a low, annoying buzz when we picked up the receiver. I figured the phone died, since it’s this cheap plastic thing about the weight of a child’s toy and seems really easy to break. Replacing that was annoying, because buying a new phone makes me think of this commercial NYNEX had in the mid-80s, people throwing garbage phones out the window to a tune that went “Second-class phones, they’re making/ Second-class phones, they’re breaking”, and it was only decades later I learned they were just using Grant Clarke and James Hanley’s 1921 Fanny Brice hit “Second Hand Rose”. If you have the faintest idea why this bothers me, please give it to me. I have too much guff and not any explanations for this one.

The new phone had the same problem, so it turned out it was our phone line. So Friday we called The Phone Company on a cell phone to report the problem. There, I couldn’t think of what our land-line number was so I hung up because that was easier than fixing that problem. On the second try I got our number right and they promised to have the problem fixed the next time they had a technician in the vicinity of 1996.

Sunday, our phone line was working again, which we discovered when someone wanted to fix Windows for us. Cool. Then on Tuesday The Phone Company sent someone out to fuss around the phone lines leading to our house, and finished up by saying the phone should be working fine now. I thanked him and didn’t say anything about how it had been working for two days already, since I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. You never know when we’ll need The Phone Company guy to like us again.

So all this would just be ordinary little mysteries of life. Except last night about midnight someone with a slightly rusty pickup truck knocked on our door and waited a while. We didn’t answer, of course, because there’s nothing legitimate going on that has someone driving a slightly rusty pickup truck to our house at midnight on a Wednesday-to-Thursday. I’m maybe 80% sure it isn’t The Phone Company guy come out to fix our line again.

Oh, but that pickup bed. You don’t suppose they sent someone to haul away some of our unneeded guff, do you? I’m going to feel like a fool if we missed our chance to get rid of some of this. Well, there’s maybe a 40% chance that The Phone Company guy is just going to keep reappearing in our lives to fix a phone line that’s already working again. I’ll have my chances.

Author: Joseph Nebus

I was born 198 years to the day after Johnny Appleseed. The differences between us do not end there. He/him.

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